


k.i.s.s.i.n.g, And Stuff

by R00bs_Teacup



Series: porthos and treville vignettes in a universe [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, Modern Era, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/pseuds/R00bs_Teacup
Summary: they have sex, basically.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CanadianGarrison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianGarrison/gifts).



“Hang on, hang on.”

Treville stops at once and looks up at Porthos, worried for a moment. Porthos had been a bit upset earlier. He doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t take his hand out of Treville’s hair, either. He looks down at Treville, sat on the edge of the bed with his thighs open for Treville to crouch between, his eyes dark and wide, mouth open. Treville hums, holding onto Porthos’s thigh for balance again, rubbing his thumb over the skin there, pressing his lips and humming again. 

“Do that again,” Porthos says. “Not the humming. That’s nice, but the- before.”

Treville rests his cheek against the top of Porthos’s thigh again, and runs his free hand over the front of Porthos’s boxers. 

“This?” he suggests. 

“No. With… with your mouth,” Porthos says, his skin going dark and pinkish over his cheeks and chest. 

They haven’t done much of this and talking about it seems to make Porthos embarrassed, which is hugely entertaining. In theory, Porthos had been dirty. As soon as it came down to real bodies, Porthos had gone a bit quiet about things. Treville smiles and pushes the loose fabric of Porthos’s underwear up again, baring his thigh, the crease of his leg, pushing the waistband up so he’s still covered but his skin is open and bare. Treville licks up the crease again, to Porthos’s hip, thumb rubbing where it rests against Porthos’s cock. It’s filling beneath the fabric, and the pants are damp now. Treville licks again and Porthos makes a noise Treville’s not heard before- a breathy, high exhalation, almost a whine. His thighs tense and relax as he rides the sensation out with a rock of his hips. 

“That goes all hot and loose all down into my thighs,” Porthos says. 

Treville finds the sensitive spot through careful exploration with his tongue and lips, kissing and licking, fine tuning his aim until Porthos is rocking with each touch, resting the heel of his hand against Porthos for friction. Treville presses a last kiss and looks up, resting a moment. Porthos leans down to kiss him, mouth hot and insistent, breath fast and hard as he takes quick gasps between kisses, still rocking into Treville’s hand. 

“Are you going to come so soon?” Treville asks. Porthos shakes his head, though. “Do you want to keep your boxers?”

“Mmm. They’re new. Called hipster trunks,” Porthos says, taking over holding the fabric, admiring his underpants with a pleased grin. 

“I like the black against your skin, makes the muscle of you thick. And the waistband is wide, makes you look really good,” Treville says, running his fingers under the band until he touches Porthos’s arm. He gets his fingers against Porthos’s wrist and kneels up to kiss there, too. “Would you like to come, like this?”

“What about you?” Porthos asks. 

Treville kisses him before answering. He’s not sure what he wants. He enjoys Porthos’s pleasure, and the taste and closeness of him is making Treville’s cock thicken. He’s not sure what he wants to do about that, though. They haven’t been naked together yet, not entirely. He’s still wearing his jeans, now. Porthos likes that, likes Treville in jeans and nothing else. Likes the muscles of Treville’s chest and stomach, the softness. The wideness of his shoulders, the freckles there from the sunshine. He says so. Treville stretches, shifting, and Porthos widens his thigh, shifting his bum so he’s closer against Treville. 

“We’ll work it out later,” Treville says. Porthos’s hand is on his shoulder again, fingers feeling over the freckles, and it’s making the skin there tingle. Porthos hums, and Treville kneels up for a kiss to feel the hum.

“If I’m getting off like this you need to use a vibrator,” Porthos murmurs, mouth still against Treville’s. 

“Okay,” Treville says. 

Porthos gets up and Treville takes the chance to stand, too, and stretch out his legs and back. Porthos watches, distracted from his task. Treville smiles and bends over, stretching, letting his body make a show of himself, turning at the waist to stretch his shoulders, so the sun catches him from the window and his freckles stand out. Porthos lets out a warm laugh and his big hand closes over Treville’s hip, tugging. 

“I want these off,” Porthos says, fingers getting in the band of Treville’s jeans. “May I?”

Treville nods, and holds Porthos’s shoulder as Porthos concentrates on undoing the button and zip, pushing the clothing down, away. Treville steps out of them, and goes to take off his pants too, remembers Porthos wants to wear his and asks. Porthos beams at him and catches hold of his face, hands warm and gentle holding Treville’s head in a cradle, pulling him up and in for a kiss until Treville’s against his chest. Treville forgets about his underwear, the vibrator, everything except Porthos’s lips and mouth and tongue. 

“You’re very good at that,” Treville says, when Porthos pulls back. 

“Vibrator. Knickers,” Porthos says, breathless. “You’re lovely, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Treville asks, a little surprised. He hadn’t been aware of any particular expression. 

“Oh, just that little smile, you’re so warm when you look at me, and you look all pleased and kinda like you like me,” Porthos says. 

“I do like you.”

“Knickers,” Porthos reminds, turning away, letting Treville go. 

Treville removes his underwear with a quick shimmy, which Porthos, turning back from the dresser with a blue pocket vibrator, catches and laughs at. Treville does another one, and Porthos wraps around him in a happy embrace, joyful and big and sunshiny. Treville kisses his bare shoulder, his bare neck, his collarbone, untangling himself from the embrace with kisses, his mouth roaming Porthos’s shoulders and chin and cheek and guiding him back to the bed, taking the vibrator. He moves back down over Porthos’s chest, pausing to lick and kiss at his nipple, down his stomach, dragging his lip and tongue over and over to feel the trembles and tenses there. Porthos pushes with his hand on Treville’s shoulder, and Treville laughs, mouthing down Porthos’s stomach, over his waistband, over the damp fabric, back to his thigh. 

“Like your freckles,” Porthos mutters, sounding breathless and distracted, hand clenching against Treville. He loosens his hold then rubs his thumb in a firm swipe up to Treville’s neck, then rests behind his ear, which makes Treville breathe out with a rush, rocking forward onto his knees, pressing into Porthos. “You like?”

“Your thumb,” Treville says. Porthos rubs a little, then laughs when it makes Treville hum. 

Treville pushes at the fabric of the trunks and gets at Porthos’s skin again, mouthing over it, looking for that place again. It’s easier, this time, to find. He finds a place just above Porthos’s hip to hold with one hand, letting his fingers scrabble a ticklish moment before resting. He uses the other hand to press the vibrator on, running it over and letting it rest against Porthos, alongside his penis, the slight swell as it fills with blood, the rush of wetness. Treville shifts it so he can press the heel of his hand and hold the vibrator, and continues his kissing and licking, moving with the rock of Porthos’s hips. Porthos’s breath comes quicker, and his hand shifts to hold onto Treville’s neck, gentle, fingers shifting restlessly. 

His thighs go taut suddenly, and he bends toward Treville and tugs him sharply up into a rough kiss, pushing against the vibrator and Treville’s hand. He comes like that, thighs holding tight to Treville, mouth urgent, breathy. He stills after, pulling Treville up further, flopping back onto the bed, trembling and shifting until he can rest with his thighs around one of Treville’s, wet and still gently shifting. He arches a little, making a thick pleased sound, and holds onto Treville, hand on his bum, wriggling again until the muscle of his thigh is between Treville’s legs, Treville’s cock wet against the fabric of his waistband, the skin of his belly. 

Porthos sets about a rush of exploration, hands and fingers over Treville’s back and sides finding sensitive spots, mouth and lips pressing to his eyes, over his ear, licking the little skin he can reach below, over his beardd. Treville pushes his hips forwards, and finally wraps a hand around himself, forehead resting against Porthos. He’s on his side and his can move and shift into Porthos’s hands, his mouth, his thigh, his stomach. He comes fast, Porthos’s teeth closing gently against his neck and shoulder, licking and sucking there as Treville jerks, eyes shut, head back, enjoying the rush through him, the kick of his cock, the strength and heat and sheer body of Porthos right there. 

“Christ I’m sticky,” Porthos says .”You just jizzed absolutely everywhere. All over me.”

Treville laughs, panting, head against Porthos’s biceps. He lets go of his cock and it softens against Porthos’s thigh. 

“I like that,” Porthos whispers. “The weight of you against me like that.”

“I’m happy to not move,” Treville says, still smiling, getting his arms around Porthos and holding him, lips against Porthos’s shoulder a moment, his arm, his cheek. 

“Yeah. For a minute,” Porthos says, hips rolling, thigh twitching. “Mm.”

“I envy you that,” Treville mutters, getting a hand on Porthos’s hip and rubbing down over his bum and thigh and pulling until Porthos rocks again. 

“I got the best genitals,” Porthos agrees comfortably. “Wanna see?”

“Most definitely,” Treville says. 

“Shower with me, I’ll show you,” Porthos says. 

“You wanted to wait,” Treville murmurs.

“It’s been four fucking months,” Porthos mutters back, shifting restlessly against Treville. “Mm, you feel good. All hard muscles. Soldiering agrees with you.”

“Not you, anymore?” Treville asks, pulling back so he can see Porthos’s face, can rest a hand against his cheek and watch his eyes crinkle up with a smile. 

“So much happier, now,” Porthos says. “Nah, I’m better off out.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yeah,” Porthos admits, smile falling a little. “But then, this. It’s better.”

“I’m glad I met you again,” Treville says, kissing him.

“I am too but I am currently gross and sticky. Come see me, in the shower,” Porthos says, making exactly zero effort to move. 

Treville sits up first, and gets up to stretch himself out again, work the kinks from his muscles. 

“Do you have any kinks?” He asks, looking over his shoulder. Porthos is up on an elbow, admiring. Treville grins. 

“Freckles,” Porthos decides, after a moment’s thought, finally getting up. “Nah, not really. I do like your freckles. I didn’t notice before.”

“It’s the sun,” Treville says. 

“We were in Afghanistan,” Porthos says, giving him an incredulous look. 

“Oh, that before. I wore more clothes. Being your superior, and you being eighteen years old, it’d have been inappropriate otherwise,” Treville says, and Porthos laughs, grabbing his arm and tugging him into the hallway. “Porthos! You have housemates!”

“Just Athos,” Porthos says, shrugging, towing Treville up to the third floor, to the bathroom. 

Treville breaks away and makes a run for it, hoping Athos isn’t around, chased by Porthos’s uproarious laughter. Porthos bounds after him and hurries him into the bathroom, shutting the door. It has no lock, just a chair to put against the inside. Porthos does so, and goes to the cupboard to get towels. He chooses carefully, feeling over them, and finds a big thick one which he wraps around Treville before deciding that, yes, it will do. Only when he’s sorted that does he put the shower on. Treville’s showered here before, and knows it’ll take a bit to warm up, so he drops the towel onto the chair and sits. Porthos comes over, thumbs in his waistband, grinning, swaggering. Treville isn’t surprised when Porthos doesn’t stop until his crotch is right by Treville’s face. Treville gives him a light shove and Porthos steps back, laughing, and bends for a kiss instead. When he straightens and pulls away, he’s got out of his underwear. He blushes, and turns, walking off to fiddle with the shower and find shower gel (over the bath) and a flannel (in the cupboard).

“You’re wonderful,” Treville assures.

Porthos comes back over and Treville gets up, letting himself be tugged into the shower. Porthos is clearly up and ready for more, but they don’t actually do anything. Porthos showers quickly, self conscious, and dries himself off, doing his teeth while Treville washes at a more leisurely pace. When he gets out, Porthos has a towel around his waist. 

“I got to see you entirely naked,” Treville whispers, and Porthos laughs, arms around Treville’s shoulders. 

“It’s not really about, like...” Porthos says, pulling back, anxious again. “I just, I like the feeling of protection, wearing something, being partly covered. It’s not-”

“It’s ok. Bodies are fraught, you can show me yours however you like in whatever order at whatever speed,” Treville says. “I love it all.”


End file.
